


Your Lips Are Poison

by OldandKinky



Series: Honey [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding Kink, Come Inflation, Crying, Dark, Dark Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Face Slapping, Forced Orgasm, Gentle Sex, Humiliation, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jaskier hates Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Kissing, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild Blood, Non-Consensual Mating, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Painful Sex, Rape, Rough Sex, Squirting, The Author Regrets Everything, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, knot play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 22:56:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30079617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldandKinky/pseuds/OldandKinky
Summary: Geralt made Jaskier a promise, and he intends to keep it.
Relationships: Essi Daven & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Honey [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200014
Comments: 14
Kudos: 162





	Your Lips Are Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Some people asked about what would happen after "Honey In Your Voice, Poison On Your Tongue", when Jaskier goes into heat. Well, here you go. Don't say I didn't warn ya.

Two months later, Geralt is on his way back to the little no name town, just as he promised. Inside his bags is a pouch full of coin, one he collected specifically to set Essi up with some other family for however long Jaskier's heat will last. He knows he doesn't have to, he could just as easily toss the girl out the door and nobody would dare confront him but he knows it will make Jaskier feel better.

It's odd, he thinks as he lets Roach carry him to his destination. He never particularly cared about omegas. Sure, he would fuck them when they became available, at brothels or on occasion as payment, but usually Geralt would view them as just slightly easier to fuck bedpartners.

Not Jaskier, for some reason.

He doesn't believe in true mates in general and not for Witchers in particular. Such a thing just doesn't happen to his kind. He does, however, have a hard time denying the immediate and powerful lure Jaskier's scent had turned out to be.

It's all very strange, but Geralt looks forward to exploring this further.

It's just getting dark when he reaches Jaskier's cottage, and he immediately knows something is off. There are no lights in the windows, and no smoke from the chimney. When he has dismounted and goes to open the door, he finds it locked.

Rage bubbles up inside of him, rage of a potency he has rarely experienced in his long life. The omega - _his_ omega - has run.

* * *

Geralt tracks their scent to a house a couple of minutes walk away. It's only slightly bigger than Jaskier's cottage, and he knocks loudly on the door. There's some shuffling from inside, and then the door opens about an inch.

"Yes?" It's a woman, a beta from the scent of her. Her one visible eye is green and suspicious.

"Is he here?" He can barely get the words out through the rage coursing through him, and she stiffens.

"You're that Witcher," she says cautiously, "the one who…"

"Who got him his sister back." He stares her down. "Where is he?"

She studies him a moment longer. "He left. We're looking after the girl. Don't know where he went."

Geralt can't smell a lie on her. "Which way?"

Another moment of hesitation, until she seems to decide that she doesn't want his ire directed at herself. She nods in the direction of the woods. Geralt turns and leaves her standing there, a commanding, "Look after my horse," tossed over his shoulder.

* * *

Once he knows where he's going, it's easy to pick up Jaskier's scent. The sweet tang of pre-heat gives way to actual heat along the way, and Geralt's heart rate picks up ever so slightly. This is a hunt, and there can only be one outcome.

It doesn't take long, two hours at most. Ahead he can see a cave, and the place is absolutely saturated in heat scent. His mouth waters.

The cave is narrow at its entrance, but the inside is spacious. It's dark inside, except for a small oil lamp, and there, tucked into a corner in a heap of blankets and furs, is Jaskier. Geralt's first instinct is to take him immediately, but he stops at the mouth of the cave and watches him for a moment.

The omega is naked except for a tunic, white and sheer where it clings to his skin, soaked with sweat. His head is thrown back against the blankets, eyes closed and lips parted, and one hand is busy between his thighs while the other is shoved into his tunic, playing with a nipple. He's panting, and his frustration hangs heavy inside the small space.

"I told you I'd come back," Geralt says, and Jaskier screams, his eyes flying open. He grabs a blanket to cover himself, and then he stares at Geralt, eyes wide and terrified. The Witcher smiles. "A cave in the woods, Jaskier? Really?"

The boy whimpers and pulls the blanket up to his chin. His fingers glisten. "Get out," he croaks, and Geralt cocks his head.

"I don't think I'll do that." He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and his cock thickens in his leathers as the boy's pheromones fill his lungs. "You'll need my help. Again."

Jaskier shakes his head wildly and pushes himself backwards, until he collides with the cave wall. "No, I won't. Leave me alone." His heart is racing.

Geralt takes a step closer, and Jaskier stiffens, impossibly, even more. "You've caught a whiff of me now, boy," he says softly as he starts unbuckling his armour. "Your heat will be so much worse unless you let me help you."

"I don't _want_ your fucking help! Go away!" He actually snarls at Geralt now, baring his teeth. It's adorable.

The Witcher ignores his protests, instead focusing on undressing. When he's down to his leathers and a shirt, he walks towards Jaskier. "I'm not leaving you alone out here, Jaskier. Anyone could walk by and try to hurt you." He pulls his shirt over his head, and Jaskier whimpers. "And we don't want that, do we?"

The omega is trying his best to melt into the wall behind him, but Geralt can see how his proximity, his scent, affects the boy. His eyes are going hazy, and Geralt smiles. He balls up the shirt and tosses it at Jaskier, who flinches away but gets hit square in the face with the fabric anyway. He does the worst thing he could do: he sucks in a breath, getting a lungful of alpha pheromones, and Geralt can see the moment it hits the boy.

He goes limp, the blanket slipping from his fingers, and he looks drunk all of a sudden. Geralt rumbles a pleased, "Good boy," and Jaskier shivers.

It's but a moment's work to pull off his boots and leathers, and when he crawls into the nest and tugs the blanket away from Jaskier, the boy whimpers and spreads his legs.

Geralt wastes no time. He grabs him by the hips and pulls him close, bowing his head for a taste. He remembers the sweetness of Jaskier's slick well, but this is so much better. Last time, he'd had to coax even the smallest drop out of the boy; now he's gushing, the blanket under him soaked already, and Geralt moans into his flesh as he sucks the kid's clit into his mouth. Jaskier keens and arches into it, slim fingers sinking into his hair. He makes the most delicious noises, breathless panting and sweet, high mewls, and Geralt could stay here forever.

Jaskier comes for the first time with Geralt's tongue inside his cunt, a thumb rubbing insistingly at his clit, and he wails, his cries deafening in the small space. Geralt's face is drenched, slick dripping down his chin, and he doesn't let up. He pushes two fingers into the boy and returns to sucking him, and Jaskier's thighs clamp around his head, keeping him in place.

He makes the boy come again like that, before he crawls up his body, slotting himself between Jaskier's thighs. The omega paws at his chest, eyes half-lidded and unseeing, and Geralt slides into the wet heat of his cunt with a groan.

"Fuck, you're soaking wet, Jaskier." He rolls his hips slowly, experimentally, and Jaskier mewls and tangles his fingers into Geralt's hair again. It's only the first round and Geralt already feels half ruined, just from the experience of having a heat-dumb omega for the first time. He's never had this. Nobody would let an alpha Witcher near one under normal circumstances.

It's ironic, he thinks as he fucks the boy, slow and gentle. He probably would have been safer if he had stayed in the village.

Jaskier responds beautifully to each thrust, with soft gasps and moans, his knees falling wide open, and he smells mouthwateringly good. Geralt finds himself drawn to the boy's neck, to his scent gland, and Jaskier tightens deliciously around him when he licks the spot where a mating bite would go.

All of a sudden, the instinct to bite him, to sink his teeth into that soft skin is almost overwhelming. He _wants_ it, and it blindsides him entirely. True, he has started thinking of the boy as his omega, started thinking like that from the moment he first knotted him, but this? This is unexpected.

He forces himself away with a last, gentle swipe of his tongue, and Jaskier sighs with pleasure.

The boy comes soon after, on his cock this time, and again when Geralt's knot slides into him, even easier than last time. He knows he's big, his knot easily the size of Jaskier's fist, but the omega's body accepts him without a fuss, locking around him and dragging a toe curling orgasm out of him.

The boy's cunt clenches around him, and it keeps going, on and on, and he can watch how Jaskier's belly tightens, can watch the slight bump appear as his insides are flooded. It's only Geralt's knot that is keeping it all inside, and he strokes a hand over the soft swell. He imagines, unbidden, what it would be like to have that swell be there always, to have it be there because Jaskier is round with his pup instead, and before he knows it, he is bending over the boy, his teeth dragging over his scent gland.

Beneath him, Jaskier stiffens, and then he's screaming and his fingers tear at Geralt's chest, drawing blood. He keeps screaming, and Geralt sits back on his heels, catching the boy's hands and slamming them down onto the blankets. Jaskier's scream cuts off as he stares up at him, gaze clear now that he has been knotted, and there is so much hatred in his eyes that Geralt almost recoils. Almost.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Blood trickles down his chest in thin rivulets, and he grimaces at the sting.

Jaskier snarls, twisting in his grip like an eel, at least until the knot tugs painfully at him. Then he yelps, but it doesn't curb the anger in him. "Get _off_ of me! I don't want you here, I _never_ wanted you! Who do you think you are?!"

Geralt grinds down against him, and Jaskier's eyes flutter with obvious reluctance. "I'm the one who saved your sister."

"So fucking what? I paid my debt! You have no right-"

"I have _every_ right, boy. You're an omega." He leans down; his blood drips down onto Jaskier. "You're _my_ omega."

Jaskier stares back at him. His jaw works. Then he spits in Geralt's face.

Geralt sees red. He sits up and slaps Jaskier, hard enough to make the boy's head snap to the side with a gasp. "That was a mistake," he growls, and Jaskier whimpers, his freed hand coming up to cradle his cheek. "We've been over this - _this_ ," he pulls back, his knot tugging at the boy's cunt again, "is all you're good for."

The omega turns his head back to look up at him. His cheek is swelling already, red and angry looking. His eyes are cold and full of fury. "So if our biology is all that defines us, does that make you completely worthless? You can't even put a pup in me," and then his lips twist in a loose approximation of a smile, " _alpha_."

They stare at each other for a long moment, and Geralt is, underneath the anger, actually impressed. The omega is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Geralt's money is on the former.

"Brave words," he says softly, "for someone still caught on a knot." He reaches down between the boy's thighs, and Jaskier stiffens again, tries to close his legs. Geralt shoves them apart roughly, then tugs on the boy's clit. He yelps, back arching and cunt spasming around Geralt's knot. "You can put on a brave face and scream at me all you like, but the fact remains - this is where you belong."

"Fucking me through my heat won't make you a real alpha," Jaskier forces out through gritted teeth. Geralt's lips thin.

"Maybe not, but it's still good to have you squirming on my knot." He leans down, catching himself on his free hand. The boy may put on a brave face but underneath all that anger he stinks of fear. "You better come to terms with it, Jaskier," he murmurs, "I'll be with you through this heat, and then… Well, we'll see."

Jaskier's eyes widen. "You can't."

"Oh, but I can, boy." He rocks his hips, carefully, his knot having shrunk ever so slightly. "I can do whatever the fuck I want. You're an omega without a family. Nobody cares about what happens to you." He pulls back, back, Jaskier's cunt stretching around him as the boy whimpers. "And if I decided to mate you, no one would stop me."

His knot pops out just as Jaskier opens his mouth to speak, and whatever he was going to say turns into a cry of pain. Geralt looks down between them, at the mess he's made of the boy. He's red and swollen, but this time it's from his heat, and Geralt's spend drips out of him sluggishly.

"Please," Jaskier says now, through gritted teeth, "please don't, anything but that."

"And why shouldn't I?"

"I'd… I'd just be a burden to you," Jaskier says, obviously trying to come up with a good enough reason.

"You'd be a wet cunt, always at my disposal."

Fresh tears well in the boy's eyes. He's so pretty when he cries. "Please don't," he whimpers again. Geralt takes hold of his hips and pushes back into him, his knot bumping against him, and then he keeps pushing. "Wh-" Jaskier's eyes widen and he tries to squirm away, but Geralt holds him in place. He keeps pushing, and Jaskier whimpers and whines and then he keens in pain. "Stop, you'll- I can't- Stop, _please stop_ , plea-"

Geralt shoves his knot back into him, and Jaskier's voice cracks on his scream.

It’s heady, listening to the boy scream as Geralt fucks him on his knot, just as it had been when he had him that first time. Knowing that there is nothing Jaskier can do to stop him shortens his breath, has his hips snapping faster, harder. The fact that even with this rough treatment, the boy hasn’t torn, that his body makes way for him regardless of Jaskier’s undeniable hatred of him, all of that makes it even better.

“Please, it hurts.” There are fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and Geralt leans down and strokes his thumb over the soft skin under his eye. “Please stop.” It’s barely a whisper.

“Sssh, you’re alright, omega,” he says quietly, and Jaskier shudders. “Can you be good for me now? Then I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt, hm?”

The boy sobs, turning his face away as he shakes with it. Geralt waits, holding himself still, cock buried deep inside Jaskier. Then, finally, Jaskier nods.

Something inside Geralt _howls_ in triumph. The bitch has submitted, has accepted him as a partner, and he leans down and presses wet kisses to the pale column of Jaskier’s throat. “Good boy.” Jaskier shivers, and then his scent thickens. “That’s it, good omega, so nice and soft and hot, just let it happen.”

It doesn't take long after that for the next wave of Jaskier's heat to come along, not when Geralt covers the smaller body entirely with his own, when he surrounds him with his scent and pheromones. Once it hits, Jaskier's resentment melts away. He's dripping wet once more, and Geralt's knot has gone down enough for him to carefully, gently fuck the omega again. It's sweet, really, and while he so enjoys making the boy cry, enjoys causing him pain, he enjoys this, too.

It's not something he gets, usually. Most harlots just try to get him off as quickly as possible, and sex like that is _efficient_. This is lovely, and not something a Witcher is ever afforded.

Jaskier comes twice before Geralt knots him again, and once more on his knot, sending Geralt into his own orgasm. The boy's stomach is swollen almost grotesquely now, and when he blinks away the heat haze, he groans and cups the swell of it with a grimace. " _Fuck…_ "

Geralt hums, his mind still slow with his orgasm. "Gonna put a pup in you one of these days, omega," he says, and it doesn't catch up with him what he just said until Jaskier stiffens under him.

The boy keeps his eyes averted and his lips pressed tightly together, and Geralt groans and buries his face in Jaskier's throat, nipping at his scent gland. The omega shudders and gasps, hands grasping at his shoulders, and Geralt isn't sure whether he's trying to push him away or pull him closer. The drive to just sink his teeth in, to bind the omega to himself is so strong he can just barely hold himself back. Then he wonders why he's even holding back.

When his knot goes down, he finally flops down on the furs beside Jaskier with a huff. Jaskier immediately rolls onto his side, his back to Geralt, and curls up as much as his swollen belly allows. Geralt watches him for a while, the way his shoulders shake as he cries silently, how his fingers curl around his own arm as he hugs himself.

"I never wanted an omega," he says at length, and Jaskier goes very still. "Thought the stories were exaggerated, how good it feels to be with one of you. To find the _right one_." He huffs a laugh. "Turns out I was wrong." Jaskier doesn't reply, just stays still and silent, and Geralt rolls to the side, presses up against the boy's back. "You make me want things I never thought about before, Jaskier, things Witchers aren't supposed to want." He reaches around, splays his hand over the swell of Jaskier's belly. The boy whimpers. "I know I can't give you children, omega, but you make me want to try and find a way."

Again, Jaskier doesn't reply. He just cries quietly, and Geralt nuzzles his hair, licks over his scent glands. The taste of heat is still thick in Jaskier's sweat, but it's simmering for now, sated for a while at least, and Geralt finds himself drifting into sleep, enveloped in the scent of heat and nest and mate.

* * *

He's woken up, some time later, by Jaskier sitting down on his cock with a breathy moan. Geralt grunts, hands coming up to take hold of the boy's hips, and Jaskier starts to ride him in earnest. It doesn't take him long to take all of Geralt, he's so wet that it's barely a struggle, but he whines, high and animalistic, when Geralt bumps against his cervix. Jaskier's face twists in discomfort for a second, but then he lifts himself up on his knees, balancing with his hands on Geralt's chest, and slams his hips down again.

Geralt lies there, watching as the boy fucks himself on his cock. His eyes are closed, his hair limp with sweat, and his mouth hangs open as he rides Geralt, pink tongue peeking out between his lips every now and then. He makes the sweetest sounds, breathless moans and little pained gasps when Geralt goes just that much too deep, and Geralt can't resist. He reaches up and takes the boy by the neck, pulling him down, and then he kisses Jaskier.

He has rarely kissed anyone in his long life. Harlots don't like to do it, usually, and if they do it costs extra. There had been youthful fumblings amongst the trainees back at Kaer Morhen, before they presented mostly, and the odd willing partner along the way, but Geralt can count the number of proper kisses he's shared through all his years on two hands.

He never wants to stop kissing Jaskier, and it takes him entirely off guard. The boy mewls into his mouth, letting Geralt deepen the kiss, and every time he licks into Jaskier's mouth, the boy's cunt tightens around him. It's bliss, and Geralt feels himself hurtle towards an orgasm outrageously fast. He shoves a hand between them and pinches Jaskier's clit between thumb and forefinger, jerks it roughly as Jaskier cries out, cunt twitching around Geralt's cock, and it doesn't take long at all until the boy comes with a sob. Geralt grabs him by the hips and holds him in place as he plants his feet on the ground and fucks into him, fast and deep, and then his knot pops past Jaskier's rim. For a moment, Geralt's vision whites out, and he groans, loud and unrestrained.

They're both panting, Geralt's fingers still digging into the soft swell of Jaskier's hips. Geralt lies there, eyes closed as he continues to pump the boy full, and it's better than he could have ever imagined.

When he can pry his eyes open again, Jaskier is staring down at him with a look of contempt so pure, it makes something inside Geralt recoil. He doesn't know why. He's used to people disliking him, and he knows Jaskier would rather throw himself off a cliff than consent to any of this, but nevertheless the look hurts, somehow.

Jaskier doesn't say anything. He just watches him, his arms wrapped around himself, and waits.

"Your face will stay like that if you keep it up," Geralt says at length, and Jaskier's eye twitches. Geralt huffs a laugh and closes his eyes again.

Above him, Jaskier shifts carefully, putting a bit more weight on his knees. "So what's your plan? Bite me and drag me along as you fight monsters?"

He hums. "Maybe. Haven't decided yet." A lie, really. He knows he'll mate the boy before this is done, will take him with him on the Path.

The omega gnashes his teeth. "I'll run."

Here, Geralt can't help but smile. "Run where? No one would help you, not after they realise you're mated."

Jaskier is quiet for a long moment. Then he says, very softly, "I'd rather die than be yours."

The Witcher opens his eyes, looks up at the boy. There is determination in his gaze, and Geralt knows that, given half a chance, Jaskier would go through with it. "Am I truly that abhorrent to you?"

The boy's mouth twitches, and he hisses, "You _raped_ me! You're raping me _right now_! Why would I not hate the very ground you stand on?" His eyes fill with tears again. "I came to you begging for your help, and you… You used that against me. You're a monster, Geralt, and I pray to the gods that they'll rid me of you as soon as possible."

Geralt's jaw clenches, tighter and tighter the longer Jaskier speaks. He can't really deny the truth of Jaskier's words: he did use the boy's misfortune for his own gain, he did rape him, and, even though he doesn't really think an omega in heat _can_ be raped, he's very much having sex with Jaskier against the boy's will. Still, having it all laid out so plainly, to hear Jaskier wishing for his death, for _his own_ over having to be with Geralt - he doesn't like it. At all.

"I'm not raping you," he says quietly, "I'm _helping_ you."

"Helping me?! Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think I've never gone through a heat without an alpha? It's what I've done every single time so far! And it was fine!" He laughs, a painful, ugly thing. "You need me more than I could ever need you."

Geralt growls, and Jaskier flinches, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "Think very carefully about how you want to speak to me," he hisses. "I've been nothing but kind to you, but I can change that if you prefer."

Jaskier presses his lips together tightly and looks away. His heart is racing.

"That's what I thought."

They don't talk after that. When Geralt's knot goes down, Jaskier all but flings himself off of him, curling up on his side again, back to the Witcher. Geralt closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment.

What did he expect, really? Omegas are like this, he reminds himself, contrary and used to having their every wish catered to. The thing is, he finds himself almost _wanting_ to indulge Jaskier. Let him ask for what he wants, and Geralt is sure he'd fall prey to the instinct to provide. Instead Jaskier spat in his face and called him a monster and rapist. He's used to being called names, to being despised, but this hits differently.

He sighs. He could leave, he supposes, let the boy ride out his heat on his own, but something dark and angry snarls at the mere thought. Leave his omega? Alone and vulnerable, while he's so ripe, smells so tempting? Never.

Geralt sits up and grabs his cloak, spreads it over the both of them. Jaskier flinches away for a second before the breath shudders out of him and he settles down again, and when Geralt moves closer, there is no reaction beyond a slight tightening of his muscles. Geralt will take it, for now.

* * *

The next time Geralt wakes, he's alone. The cave is empty, the furs beside him cold.

Jaskier is gone.

Geralt is on his feet in a heartbeat, heedless of his nudity. Dawn is creeping up outside, and he rushes to the entrance of the cave. Jaskier's scent hangs in the air, faint but unmistakable, and he takes off, his instincts urging him on.

This is a hunt, and Jaskier is his prey, and there is only one way this can end.

The earth is damp beneath his bare feet, dew clinging to the grass and leaves as he races through the forest, silent and deadly. Jaskier has a head start but the boy is not used to navigating in the dark, in the woods, and he's weakened by his heat. Geralt has no doubt that he'll catch him easily.

It's thrilling, he finds, to be reduced to this most primal behaviour, to run through the wilderness, wearing nothing but his sweat and hunger as he searches for his mate. Being in total control is such an essential thing for a Witcher, so deeply ingrained in him, that to succumb to this most basic of human urges feels almost forbidden.

It doesn't take him long at all to catch up to Jaskier. The omega is propped up against a tree, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, one hand shoved into his hastily pulled on breeches, and he's whimpering helplessly. He's clearly in pain, the scent of it thick in the air. Geralt circles around to his back, and then he grabs him by the neck. Jaskier screeches, panic pouring into his scent like spilled wine, and Geralt presses his thumb to the boy's scent gland. Jaskier calms somewhat, the panic turning muted. A cheap trick, yes, but he doesn't care.

"You really shouldn't have run away," he says as he pulls Jaskier away from the tree, and the boy whines. He's clearly deep into a heat wave, but when Geralt steps into his line of sight, he snarls. Geralt chuckles. "Oh, scary little omega."

Jaskier is shaking, anger bleeding from every pore as he looks up at Geralt. He's resisting the pull, the Witcher realises, and he can't help but be impressed. He knows how overwhelming the instinct is, has seen Jaskier succumb to it twice already. Now? Now the omega seems determined to fight it with all he has.

He will make such a good mate.

Geralt's grip on the boy's neck tightens and he forces him down into the dirt, ignoring Jaskier's cry of protest. His breeches give way easily under Geralt's grip, and he pushes the omega's face into the ground, pulls his hips up to present. He's pouring slick, his cunt plump and just begging to be filled. It would be cruel of him to refuse.

He shoves two fingers into the boy, smiling when Jaskier cries out and twists, caught between trying to get more, to get the fingers deeper, and trying to get away. Geralt rubs against the soft, spongy spot under Jaskier's pubic bone, and Jaskier shudders all over, and when Geralt scratches over his scent gland with his thumbnail, the omega wails. He comes, just from that, shaking apart from just two fingers, and all of a sudden Geralt is drenched in slick. Jaskier is whining, panting into the dirt as he rides out the orgasm that doesn't seem to stop, and when Geralt combines rubbing that spot on the inside with roughly stroking the boy's clit, he comes again. He screams, and shakes, and squirts again, and Geralt's lips curl back from his teeth.

He mounts Jaskier, the omega's cunt sucking him in like he's dying for it, and Geralt lets himself go. He ruts into the boy hard and fast, curled around him like an animal, and Jaskier's hands scrabble in the dirt as he whimpers and cries. It's incredible, pure, the most basic instinct known to man: to fuck, to breed, to mate, and Geralt allows himself to fall into it with everything that he is. The woods echo with Jaskier's cries, with Geralt's grunts and snarls, and the Witcher feels himself hurtling towards the edge at breakneck speed. His knot catches on Jaskier's rim again and again, but he keeps going, the omega's cries urging him on. He needs the boy to come again, to come on his cock, and he growls against Jaskier's nape.

"Touch yourself, Jaskier," he commands hoarsely, and the boy whimpers. There's the minutest shake of his head, and Geralt snarls, grabbing his hair roughly. "Do it!"

Jaskier cries out at a particular vicious thrust but then he obeys, pushing one hand between his legs to rub at his clit, and he moans, tightens deliciously around Geralt. He grunts, pleased.

"Good boy," he murmurs, and Jaskier mewls.

It doesn't take long. Jaskier gasps and moans, hips twitching between Geralt's rough thrusts and his own touch, and then he whines and cries out as he comes, cunt gripping Geralt like a vice. Geralt answers those cries with a growl as he ruts the boy harder, and then he forces his knot into him with a roar that echoes through the trees.

His self control abandons him entirely then, curled around the omega with his face so close to his scent gland, and as he pumps the boy full of his seed, Geralt succumbs. He pulls Jaskier's head to the side, baring his throat, and then he sinks his teeth into the gland. Jaskier screams, a high, panicked sound, and he bucks beneath Geralt, but the alpha won't be shaken off. He bites down harder, blood flooding his mouth, and it sates a hunger he wasn't even aware of.

Jaskier is shaking violently beneath him as he claws at the ground, and he's whispering something, a desperate string of, " _No, no, no, please, no, gods, no, please…_ ," that goes on and on as Geralt holds him down. Already he can smell the boy's scent changing, from the almost virginal sweetness of unmated omega to the headier, more mature flavour of one mated. It's intoxicating, and Geralt purrs, pleased.

The boy cries out when Geralt releases him, whimpers when he licks over the mark. It looks obscene on the omega's slender frame, big and angry, swollen and bloody, and Geralt's hips twitch forward, driving himself even deeper into the boy. "Fuck, Jaskier," he pants, and the omega dissolves into frantic sobs.

Once the tie releases, Geralt picks Jaskier up, the omega appearing so small and defeated in his arms as he carries him back to the cave. To their den, he thinks as he lowers the boy onto the furs. Jaskier rolls away from him, dissolving into helpless sobs again, and Geralt curls around him and holds him close.

"You're alright, omega," he murmurs against the boy's shoulder, "I'll keep you safe." Jaskier cries harder, and Geralt kisses the nape of his neck.

* * *

Jaskier doesn't try to run again. He's too exhausted, for one, the constant up and down between each new wave of his heat and the lull between them draining him of energy. Geralt is relentless, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of him during his waves, fucking him so full of come the omega looks pregnant already.

The heat last four days, and by the time Geralt carries the boy back into the village, they are both weak and in desperate need of food and rest. Geralt takes Jaskier back to his cottage, and after a few days spent fattening the kid up again and making thorough use of his bed, Geralt announces that they'll leave soon. Jaskier stiffens.

He's on the bed, naked, the way he spends most of his time, the way a good omega should. His hands are twisting the blanket between them. "What about Essi?" His voice hardly trembles, and Geralt is proud of his feisty little omega.

"We'll take her to a sanctuary. Melitele is always in need of more handmaidens." Some tension seeps out of Jaskier then, and Geralt moves to sit by him on the bed. "She'll be well taken care of, Jaskier. You have my word." He cups the boy's cheek and leans in, presses their lips together, and even though Jaskier stiffens again he doesn't try to push him off, to fight him. He still smells of disgust, of misery and pain, but he doesn't fight back.

They pack everything they'll need on the road, and when they collect Essi and Roach, who looks well taken care off, Jaskier bursts into tears again as he pulls his sister into his arms.

Geralt watches them as they head out, watches the loving way Jaskier looks at Essi, how gentle and sweet he is with her.

He'd make a good mother, Geralt thinks, and something purrs in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://oldandkinky.tumblr.com/)


End file.
